1. Tuck roses into your jacket lapel…and hers, too

      2. Sprinkle rose petals atop your steaming hot bathtub…and your bed

      3. Build a rosebush nursery, so you always have fresh roses at hand

      4. Develop a new kind of rose…and name it after the woman you love

      5. Massage the woman you love with freshly plucked rose petals…everywhere…

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Prologue

      Arcadia Heights, Ohio

       Twenty years ago

      Their hands.

      When Abigail McCall opened the front door to her house, she first saw three pairs of hands, linked together across their bodies. So small, so fine, clamped white with tension.

      Then, as she looked farther, she saw the three terrified pairs of eyes watching her above reddened cheeks. Three little girls joined together by blood and tragedy.

      Abigail had been cursing the fates since she’d received the phone call yesterday. Her younger sister, Tess, had always been bent on destruction and had finally found it in a tawdry motel room. Thirty-five and dead of a drug overdose. Now the only evidence of Tess’s brief life was the three youngsters standing on Abigail’s porch.

      Tess had never cared about the bindings of marriage, had never stayed with the same man longer than a few months, had never bothered to protect herself. Her foolishness had produced three daughters by three different men. None of their fathers had come forward to claim the girls.

      In the end, Tess’s irresponsibility had come home to roost at her older sister’s door. Abigail had been tempted to tell the social worker who called yesterday to take a hike. Why should she let Tess be the albatross around her neck again? Why should she pay the price for her sister’s mistakes? She’d liked the life she’d made for herself in this small Midwest town, and she liked living alone.

      But all thoughts of rejecting the girls shriveled and died the moment Abigail saw the poorly clothed little ones shivering before her. Their linked hands testified to their fear and their unified strength.

      The tallest and eldest stood on the right, her thin shoulders hunched against the cold. Long black hair whipped around her pinched features.

      On the other end, a pint-size blond angel waited patiently, her blue eyes wistfully fixed on the glowing light spilling from the front parlor onto the veranda’s weathered planks.

      Sandwiched between the two was the youngest child, who fidgeted until the oldest looked at her. The girl went still and stared, owl-eyed, at Abigail. Wisps of cinnamon-colored hair straggled out from under the brim of her blue knit cap. She lifted one joined pair of hands to wipe her nose. The older girl rolled her eyes but didn’t let go, as if she feared someone would snatch her sister away.

      Poor children. None of this was their doing.

      Tears pricked Abigail’s eyes. In that moment she lost her heart to them. Her nieces had suffered enough. It was time for them to have a real home.

      Abigail dropped to her knees, silently encircling her nieces with her arms. Three heartbeats later, the blond pixie shyly put her free hand on Abigail’s shoulder and frowned